


Like Fatherlike Sons

by Thorki Pitch Hitter (gamerwoman3d)



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Face-Fucking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 15:05:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17164211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamerwoman3d/pseuds/Thorki%20Pitch%20Hitter





	Like Fatherlike Sons

Loki could not stop the rumors that spread through the nine realms. Speculations skimmed across the very air like ravens, whose tongues dispersed suspicions that Odin must be dead, while Loki yet lived in Odin's form. The suspicions found root in those who felt that Odin's fiery bloodlust seemed slaked. Those that spread the rumors felt that Odin would never have been quite so agreeable and pleasant. Why else would Odin's words hold more honey than demand? Asgardian tongues conjectured that Odin traded places with his son before his imprisonment, so the old god could sleep in their most secure prison. Whispers followed that Odin and Frigga had feared further assassination attempts during his vulnerable sleep. Bets were taken as to whether the switch would force Heimdall to obey Odin's will that the rule of the kingdom fell to the younger, disliked prince, or betray him yet again to ensure the throne fell to the charming hothead, Thor. To some conspiring Asgardians, the only understandable reason Odin had not fallen into his deathly slumber in years was that he must not, in fact, be Odin. They held their belief that the real Odin would have continued to study the art of war, not take such sudden interest in the art of storytelling.

Loki could not stop the rumors. But he could ensure that the truth hardly mattered. The ravens took to whispering questions of why the switch would really matter, or affect the Asgardians at all. Most of the Asgardians agreed that even if Loki held the throne, that nothing would change; the royal family was always fucked up, the politics were always fucked up, and either way, war did not come for Asgard at this moment. And if it would come, they'd be no better off under the rule of an aging old All-Father than they would under an immature chaotic prankster or his bullheaded yet beloved golden brother. Under Loki's direction, the ravens whispered that Asgard's strength lay in its people, and that the people's own power would be enough to counter whatever evils lie ahead. Asgard's growing self-confidence strengthened the trust and bonds between its people.

Thor watched his mother chatting amicably with the astral projection of Loki. Their chat was too friendly. He thought to confront her. Thor's faith in his father mandated that he believe Odin already knew it was pointless and even dangerous for Frigga to attempt reason with Loki. But in that instant, the aforementioned rumors captured Thor's imagination. He found himself questioning his every interaction between his father, his father's conveniently faulty memory, and the mannerisms of this 'Loki' supposedly held within the prisons of Asgard. Thor turned heel, turned his back on his mother, and charged into the gilded hall on a mission to dispel these rumors from his mind. Odin was Odin. Surely Odin would forgive his beloved wife, mother of his children, for her disobedience. Thor assured himself that the All-Father knew of Frigga's disobedience already, and elected to ignore her actions in favor of seeing her happy.

Odin had avoided Thor since Loki's imprisonment, sent him off to quell skirmishes at Vanaheim. And truthfully, Thor had avoided Odin, as well. Thor projected his own feelings upon the figure of his decrepit father. Thor felt Odin avoided the grief to look strong, avoid the admission of weakness through painful emotions. Before the gilded throne, Odin stood, ready to welcome his son. Thor would know whether this visage was his father's or his brother's. He would know, if for no other reason, than by the scent. Odin smelled of blood and death, of woodsmoke and honey. Odin smelled of strong meade and Frigga's apple perfume. Loki smelled like ozone, magic herbs, and wine.

"Send the guards away. I would like a word with you about mother."  
With a wave of Odin's armored knuckles, the guards showed themselves out. With another wave, he motioned his son to the foot of his throne.  
"I know that my wife, Frigga, speaks with Loki when she fancies it. Come, my son. We should speak," Odin said.  
"Finally, some reason. I suspected this might be harde-"

Odin palmed Thor's forehead, wrapped his aging fingers over the top of Thor's skull until the fingernails slipped through the golden hair to graze the scalp. Thor's eyes crossed, rolled toward the back of his head. Thor's last defiant act as the memory magic took hold was to suck the air in through his nose. The fragrant scent of sweet grapes clashed against the herbs and the sharp scent of ozone. Thor knew.

"Sorry, brother. You return duller and duller each time I do this, so I cannot do this to you very often. There's not much wit left rattling around in that thick skull," Odin hissed.  
"So the rumors were true," Thor murmured before he collapsed.

Thor regained consciousness with no memory of the attack. Odin huffed. The implanted memories of a long, heartfelt talk with his father over mugs of strong drink were all Thor could remember. He remembered being deeply impressed by his father's wisdom, but could not remember his wizened words. Still, this was enough to satisfy his suspicion against the rumors that floated through Asgard. Thor no longer found suspicion in Frigga's flirtatious grin as he caught her in astral congress with the imprisoned form of Loki, because Loki, in Odin's form, had locked away this memory as well.

Any real reason why Odin wished to be kept in bubblewrap in their impenetrable prison eluded Loki. Loki himself had scripted Laufey's betrayal. Loki penned "the assassination attempt" against the All-Father with his own hand. No threat remained for Odin to fear, so far as Loki knew. Between his constant brainwashings of Thor and his task to bring Vanaheim to heel, Loki had no time to worry over it. Yet, Loki spent too much of his time at the mirror. The vision of his father's reflection proved more of a psychological challenge than Loki had anticipated. Not because he looked like the powerful father that he loved and feared, but because he resembled the powerful brother that he loved and yearned for. Older, frail in comparison, but obviously related. Loki found it difficult not to be attracted to certain aspects of himself in this form; the commanding voice, the icy eye, the broad shoulders, and thick fingers of a god who vanquished millions. In each moment that Thor stood in Loki's presence, Loki noticed another change in Thor that resembled their father. The good news is the changes were for the better. The bad news is the changes attracted Loki. And so, Loki often found himself before the mirror in a vain attempt to squish his own desire out of his eyes with his palms. Yet the act of wearing a form so similar to the object of his desire forced Loki to feel sexy and sensual. He often smirked involuntarily at the mirror. The original Allfather rarely smiled. As Loki beamed at himself in the mirror, with Odin smiling back at him, Loki realized that Thor inherited Odin's smile. Loki captivated himself, enamored by the semblance of his brother's charming smirk in the glass. The vision filled him with a sensation of inner heat. This heat manifested itself outwardly as a self-confident swagger.

Loki feared his obvious desire would come to light. Loki dreaded the day that he might be discovered, feared he would owe his discovery to his unnatural lust. This desire was one that Odin clearly would not have shared. Surely not, right? I mean, one would think not. Yet I'm being so obvious about it. Perhaps the reason none have noticed is that Father had a thing for Thor as well? Hahah of course not. Fathers and sons don't... I mean I hope they don't, he's my father too, after all, and, well wait, not really, but -

Thor stood on the terrace, golden in the sun. An iridescent aura clung to him, a side effect of the Bifrost’s overuse. Loki surmised that Thor arrived from Vanaheim. And then Loki noticed the deepening crows-foot wrinkles at the edge of Thor's eyes, cut in the exact same pattern as Odin's. Loki found this beautiful and comforting. He tore his face away from the sight before Thor could catch him peeking. Loki wanted to end the charade at that moment. Loki missed the way his brother once looked at him. Thor now looked at Loki in Odin's form with reverence, with a childlike love, a sense of total peace. Thor looked at Loki, in Odin's form, with a misplaced sense of complete safety, as if nothing could harm them. As if his only fears were of Odin, himself. Not fears of harm, nor physical doom, but fears of loss, or fears of delivering some disappointment. Loki yearned to see his brother stare at him the way he had in the past; not like a father but like a possession, a beautiful, coveted possession.

By Odin's beard I am not falling in love with my own damned father, thought Loki. Thor will remember everything one day. He'll regain all the memories I kept from him. By then I can only hope he's calm enough and wise enough to be king. And then what? Rule at his side? I mean that's been the goal since I can remember but he doesn't know what's down there. He doesn't know what's coming. He's not ready. And Neither are we. And the next time I perform that spell will be the last time I can perform that spell on him safely.

Fast forward. Today is the day that Thor regains his memories. Frigga is dead. Loki is presumed dead. Odin is missing, unbeknownst to Asgard. Thor has kept himself busy visiting the nine realms and avoiding Jane, despite Odin granting Thor his own life, to live as Thor pleases. Of course, Odin was never Odin, and Loki could not stop the rumors that spread through the nine realms.

New speculations took root, new suspicions that Odin must be dead, while Loki yet lived in Odin's form. Asgard prospered and seemed at peace. But according to the Asgardian rumors, Odin didn't even act like Odin any longer after the queen's death. He was no longer the commanding one, no longer impatient. Asgardian tongues conjectured Loki took the throne from Odin during the prison break and that no amount of theatre to the contrary would change their minds. They held their belief that the real Odin would uphold older policies, rather than institute newer more lenient laws. They whispered that Heimdall grew suspicious, and wished for an excuse not to follow Odin's more lenient will. Loki could not stop the rumors. But he could ensure that the truth hardly mattered. The theatre troupe took to whispering questions of why the switch would really matter, or affect the Asgardians at all. Most of the Asgardians agreed that even if it were the case, that nothing would change; the royal family was always fucked up, the politics were always fucked up, and either way, war did not come for Asgard at this moment. And if it would come, they'd be no better off under the rule of an aging old All-Father than they would under the beloved self-sacrificing ice giant prince or his bullheaded adopted brother. Under Loki's direction, the playwrights penned dramas to show that Asgard's strength lay in its people, and that anyone could grow up to be Asgardian; even a frost giant could grow to become one of Asgard's people. They performed comedies that made the people believe that their own power would be enough to counter whatever evils lie ahead. Asgard's growing self-confidence strengthened the trust and bonds between its people.

Thor, mind flooded with confusing segments of memory, charged into the gilded hall on a mission to dispel these rumors. This time, Thor brought a backup plan in case Loki had, in fact, taken control of the throne. Odin had avoided Thor since Frigga's death. And once again, Thor had avoided Odin, as well. Again, Thor projected his own feelings upon the figure of his decrepit father. Thor felt Odin avoided the grief to look strong, avoid the admission of weakness through painful emotions. To preserve Frigga's memory, he'd do everything in his power to avoid the spark of his own warlike murderous rage in the face of his own weakness to protect her. This, thought Thor, must be the reason my father avoids my company. Unless... Loki.

Before the golden throne, Odin stood, ready to welcome his son. Thor already knew this was not Odin. Thor kicked himself for his stupidity. Odin's scent had long been dispelled from the great hall; the All-Father's essence of bloody death and woodsmoked honeymead had not graced the hall in an age. Thor longed for one whiff of the fragrance his mother made from Idunna's golden apples, but this, too had faded from the hall. Thor's head hung heavy.

"Send the guards away. I would like a word with you about mother."  
"I know that we've put this off for far too long. But this conversation would be well suited for another day," Odin said.  
"That's what you've said every day I've approached you since her passing," Thor grumbled.  
"I cannot just pause the running of a country for your demanding emotional whims," Odin lied.  
"Father, I've come to beg," Thor said, "you always said you would not force me to beg in front of our subjects. Or anyone."  
With a sigh and a wave of Odin's armored knuckles, the guards showed themselves out. Loki found himself insanely curious about the way in which Thor begged. His parents had never allowed Loki to witness it. Even when Loki shapeshifted, turned invisible, used a magic spy, Frigga would dispel his magic and shoo him from the event, or take his hand and leave with him if it were Odin that Thor came to beg. Thor knew this about his brother, and had every intention to misrepresent the type of relationship he and the all-father shared. But first, Thor needed to determine if the imposter on the throne were Loki, or some other less savory usurper.

"Cast your magic, Father," Thor said, "this is not something you want your subjects to find out about us."

Loki froze. He could not remember the magic that Odin used to seal the hall and ensure their privacy. Loki did the best he could, a slightly different privacy spell, one he'd used for himself many times.

"Not even Heimdall can see us now," Loki said through Odin's lips, "Now... What is it you've come to beg me for?"

'Odin' stood before the throne.

"Father," Thor said, "Will you not sit, and hear my plea?"

Thor's heart jumped as "the Allfather" sat upon the throne. A flutter of excitement whirled from his chest into his neck at the visceral realization that his brother yet lived. Droplets formed in the corners of Thor's eyes, summoned there by restrained joy. He missed his brother deeply. Thor had missed every little thing about Loki; Thor missed Loki's quiet countenance, the grace in the way he moved his body. At that moment, Odin sat in Loki's manner. And Thor deeply missed the way his brother sits like a whore, legs spread, knees out, junk on display as if it were on offer. Thor breathed the scent of the hall in deeply, and within the mostly sterilized air hung the faintest scents of sweet-grape wines, ozone, and magic herbs. Thor ran up the steps to the throne to bury his face in the scent.

'Odin' flinched as Thor's face buried itself in the robes near throned monarch's naval. The fabric absorbed real tears. Loki's hand trembled above the golden mess of hair, wary of casting the spell until he absolutely had no other option. Loki knew that upon his own death, these spells would break, and Thor's locked memories would flood back into him. If Loki erased his memory now, then the next time Thor regained his memory, he'd have no idea what became of Odin. Loki braced himself. Before he could, in good conscious, further lock away his already dimwitted brother's memory, he must explain to Thor that it was Odin, in Loki's own form, who willingly sacrificed his life for his son's in the battle against the dark elves. They would have much to discuss, only to lock the discussion from memory. Loki sighed and slumped, caressed Thor's scalp with his own aged hand. He sat dumbfounded at Thor's desperate display. Loki mistook his brother's tears of joy for tears of mourning. He mistook Thor's deep, hissing inhale for the involuntary precursor to a desperate fit of sobbing. In fact, Thor merely intoxicated himself on his brother's long-lost scent.

By rights, Thor should have been infuriated. Loki was cruel to withhold knowledge of his own survival from Thor. But instead, Thor thought, He does not yet know I've figured him out. Let's see how he likes it when I fuck with his heart and mind. There's no reason to get even when you can get ahead. Thor took pleasure in his own cruel idea, and the pleasure pushed his inner fury back down inside himself. Loki's stroking hand stopped, paralytic; in place of the sobs that he'd expected, he felt heated breath and eager lips at the fabric near his navel, as his brother pressed kisses into the all-father's robes. Loki's mind lurched like a sportscar with a hell-bent driver that slammed one foot on the accelerator and one foot on the breaks, and strained to keep both pedals to the floor. His head filled with questions that he dared not let his tongue ask.

Has Thor always begged Odin in this manner? Did mom know? No, mom could not have known. Shhh, don't think about mom. Maybe Thor knows it's really me? Does that make it any better? No, no it doesn't really, he still sees Odin, ugh, gross... not that I haven't enjoyed this form but- Oh fuck, he's opening my clothes, those parts aren't ready, for fucks sake I have no idea how that old cock ticks, I hope this is close enough that he doesn't notice. Oh. Oh, what am I saying? This is wrong. Damn you, Odin. Is this the price Thor had to pay to be your favored son? You absolute bastard. I get it, you had no qualms using me, you've never given a damn for your children, not that I care about me, but Thor, Odin? Your own beautiful son? No, not yours anymore. Mine. My beautiful brother. How dare you take what you knew was mine all along. You knew he was mine long before I, myself, even knew. How dare you steal from one son the affection that belongs to the other. God I can't believe you're my father. Correction, I can't believe I still love you like you're my father. I can't believe I can see you in the eyes of the man I want to see sucking my c-oh fuck he's sucking my cock...

A lost, betrayed, childlike part of Loki's existence wanted to run to their mother. He despaired to know that he could not, that he could never run to her, again. Loki allowed the teardrops to roll along his cheeks, redirected in odd patterns by the puffs and wrinkles of his elderly form. Thor's blue irises peeked up towards Loki's, face streaked with joyous teardrops in a similar pattern. Supple lips pulled gently on the flesh of his exposed erection. Thor licked from base to tip, explored in search of the most sensitive bit of flesh. He gauged his proximity to this spot by listening for changes in the velocity of Loki's exhale.

Spurred by feelings of helplessness, a chaos of emotions sparked into a rage within Loki, as the thought crossed his mind that not only might Odin have demanded this begging ritual of a younger son, but that once older, Thor elected to continue these secret rituals, fully aware of the advantageous power it would allow him in command over the throne; that Odin alone did not bear the responsibility for this continued betrayal, but that the betrayal rested upon Thor's ridiculously broad shoulders as well. The part of Loki that longed to reach out for Frigga's succor, to tell tale to her every embellished and scandalous detail of this horrific breach of trust between her husband and her own son, found its way into Loki's fingertips. He reached out for the blonde hair, and pushed the thought of his mother's comfort down by shoving the urge to tattle right back down Thor's throat.

"You fucking brat," Loki hissed, "the fates of your own kingdom lie in the balance and you'd throw it all off for what? An ounce of your daddy's attention? How well do you like it?"

Thor gurgled as the cockhead jabbed past his palette. He opened his jaw, careful to wrap his brother's cock in lips and soft inner cheeks. He sputtered when Loki snapped his hips and pulled his hair in the same motion. Loki held his brother's head firm against him until Thor's nose bent into silvering pubic hair. Loki held him there for pleasure. Loki needed the pleasure to chase away the rage.

Gazing down at the sweet, solid, compromised object of his affection helped Loki to feel as sensual and powerful as he had while looking at his father's form in the mirror. He savored the sense of control. But with one swallow, Thor repossessed control. He mesmerized his brother with the motion of the soft divots that formed in his cheeks and sucked the stability out of Loki's body a drop at a time. Loki opened to his brother's willing throat, and came with a guttural outcry. He slumped back in the throne. His skin glistened with sweat, and his robes swished around his chest with the motion of his ribcage as he caught his breath.

"You're so sweet to your father when you want something," Loki crooned in their father's voice, "so what is it, my son? Tell me."

Thor drew his lips away, came off the head of the cock with a little pop noise. He kissed at the shaft between words.

"I want to sit on the throne," Thor said.

"Tough shit," Loki said.

"Please? Please daddy," Thor begged.

"No."

"Please?"

"Such a greedy boy."

"That was not a no!"

"Dare you make me repeat myself?"

"But daddy," murmured Thor, "You always let me sit on the throne when I'm begging."

This raised the hairs at the nape of Loki's neck.

"Do I," he said.

Loki's eyes narrowed as he discovered more sordid details about his bastard father's behavior. Thor smirked, the devious expression uncannily similar to Odin's. Loki shuddered at the sudden thought of their roles reversed; his brother looked too much the part to play daddy.

Thor pulled at Loki's legs, scooted him aside on the throne, clambered behind him, sat, and then pulled Loki into his lap. Thor's hands worked at the back of Odin's robes. Loki shifted to assist his endeavor. Thor closed his eyes, breathed deep, and hummed.

"You seem excited, daddy," he said.

"Should I not be?" Loki said.

When Thor closed his eyes, the illusion vanished to a large extent. He planted kisses along the smooth neck, which should have felt wrinkled and tasted of smoke. The pair melted into each other. Loki's thighs flinched against Thor's leather-clad lap as cock breached him. Loki whispered Thor's name.

Then Thor murmured the name of Loki.

Loki tensed. He attempted to bolt from Thor's arms. Thor held him fast.

"No, daddy, I meant daddy, don't go," Thor said.

"Unhand me this instant!" Loki demanded.

The racecar driver returned to abuse the controls of Loki's panic-stricken mind. Thoughts that Thor had known him the entire time, or just figured him out, would have been enough to alarm Loki. But the idea that Thor thinks of him while he's fucking their father plunged Loki into hysteria. He beat at Thor's burly arms and sobbed. Thor extracted his cock, but held Loki. Loki's thoughts ran away with him.

Odin knew. Odin knew Thor wanted me. Odin entertained Thor's fantasies of me. How fucking dare Odin steal this from me. I can't do this any longer.

Loki's trembling heart jumped to his throat, and he cried out in his own voice.

"Unhand me you vain monster!"

Thor only squeezed tighter at the long-lost sound of his brother's voice.

"Shh, brother, it's okay, it's okay, it's over," Thor said.

"You're sick," Loki said, "I'm sick, father is sick, this whole family is sick!"

"No, no it's just us," Thor said, "I knew you the moment I entered the throne room. Brother. I promise."

Loki's body went slack. His flesh transformed from the aged god. His crown of shining black hair swung into position to hide his porcelain face from his brother. His alabaster skin conflicted with the golden royal robes, but only for their luminance.

"But dad-" Loki started.

Thor interrupted him by turning his head to face his own lips. He kissed Loki.

"You. You pissed me off. You," Thor said.

He punctuated every word thereafter with kisses.

"You. Pissed me off so fucking bad. Dad never did anything like this. I just needed to fuck with you. Because you. Pissed. Me. Off."

"That was a cruel, cruel trick," Loki said.

"No more cruel than yours," Thor countered.

"Nor any less clever," Loki admitted, "you did have me fooled."

"I had you fooled because you were enjoying yourself," Thor said.

"I still am," Loki said.

"That's because I have something you don't," Thor said.

"And what, praytell, is that?" Loki asked.

Thor's grin informed Loki that this information would remain withheld for the moment.

"Well perhaps if you won't tell me, you'll tell your dear old dad," Loki said, transforming into Odin's form mid-sentence.

Thor waved Loki down.

"No, now, enough of that. You sound too much like father even when you don't look like him," Thor complained.

Loki spread his hands above his cock suggestively.

"And you look too much like him even when you're rendered mute," countered Loki.

"Do I?" Thor said.

"Oh shit," Loki muttered.

"You like the way I look though," Thor prodded.

"Who doesn't," Loki deflected.

Loki took on Thor's shape for emphasis. Thor shrugged, slipped his now identical brother back into position in his lap and nibbled his neck.

"You seem to prefer your own visage," Loki said, shuddering at the feeling of Thor's proud voice emanating from his own throat.

"Your visage makes no difference in my love for you. I simply wanted to ensure you can still enjoy yourself, knowing I look so much like your father," Thor teased.

When Loki returned to his own form, his cock stood erect at twice the size of his brother's.

"You're still hell-bent on fucking with my mind further," Loki said, "it won't work."

"Really? Think you can prove that it has no effect on you?" Thor challenged in a gruff voice, mimicking Odin.

Loki squirmed. Thor's calloused hands began a slow, torturous tour of Loki's thighs.

"Weren't you just bragging that you have something I don't," Loki said, "why not return the conversation to that insignificant bullet point?"

"Can you bear to call me daddy?" Thor asked.

"What?" Loki hissed under his breath.

"Do it. Say Daddy. Prove it doesn't bother you that you're practically fucking the very man that raised you."

"You're insane," Loki said, "it clearly didn't bother you. For fucks sake, I'm still wearing his robes."

By Odin's beard I am not falling in love with my own damned father, thought Thor.

To himself, Thor admitted that Odin's power was the only thing that could bring him fear. Not just Odin's physical or magical power, but the power to stab Thor through the heart with a single disapproving look. Thor feared the transference of Odin's powers from father to son. The thought of Loki inheriting all that power both excited and aroused him. Previously, he'd only ever allowed himself to be vulnerable before Odin, alone. Thor hid his need for someone to run to when he might not be strong behind a veil of denial. The sense of familiarity and attraction to his brother's growing power gnawed at that veil. He knew he wanted Loki precisely because Loki reminded him of the safety and familiarity he felt beneath Odin's arm. He knew he wanted Loki because no one else's disappointment with his actions mattered to him. Loki's power was sired by Odin's. Loki's power blossomed while the Allfather's withered. Thor built his stability and his entire worldview around the power of his father. Thor was never able to admit that Odin's power could diminish. It meant too much to him. He wanted it to last forever. And through Loki, it could. Thus, Thor had yearned for a drop of Loki's disapproval to test himself.

Cautiously, Thor decided to lift the veil over his own vulnerability.

"Fine. I'm the one that's messed up. I confess it. Don't let me be alone in this vagary. I wanted you to feel it, too. I wanted you to say it. I wanted you to say 'daddy' because it does something to you. Or, to me, at least, it does. I'd love for you to feel it. To try it. If you dare," Thor said.

Concerned blue eyes wreathed in pitch black lashes peered into Thor's soul from over the alabaster shoulder. Loki's adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed his trepidation. The motion strained and relaxed the chiseled cords in his elegant neck. Thor wrapped his tanned and calloused hand around the entire mess, taken by the allure of this vision. Loki rocked himself down his brother's shaft without breaking eye contact.

"Tell me what you have that I don't," Loki demanded.

"Come once more, and I'll tell you," Thor said.

He squeezed at the throat, and Loki rocked himself until his vision faded and his body went limp. Air poured into him as Thor massaged his throat with rough, warm hands. Loki rocked himself again. Thor squeezed once more.

"Fuck," Loki mouthed without breath.

Thor's other hand wandered away from its tour of Loki's legs and wrapped around his brother's girthy cock. He released Loki's neck out of spite; Thor wanted him conscious for the taunting.

"I should be glad you took a smaller form while this slipped down my throat. You might be a runt, but it seems you are still all ice giant where it counts," Thor said.

Loki's flushed face contorted into a gorgeous, pleased smile.

"You act as though that is somehow an insult," Loki said, "I can't help it if you're attracted only to monstrous things, like my cock and your father."

Thor cut off his air supply to end his words.

"True, I do admire your cock, it is admirable. Monstrous? Eh, maybe not. But admirably big, yes. It is a pity."

"Why pity?" mouthed Loki.

"Because you're such a bottom. A handsome, deceitful, obligate bottom. Think on it, Loki. All this beautiful, meaty cock, and you're never going to use it."

Loki squirmed, as if to fight the insult. His flurry of movement only helped to drain his head of oxygen faster. His body went limp in Thor's arms. Thor lessened his hold on Loki's throat, who revived with a string of curses.

“I could split you in half with it right now, don't even fucking test me," Loki half screamed, half gasped.

In this excited state, Loki squirmed too much to choke safely. Thor was content just to pump his hips. Loki thought to switch positions and let Thor have it. But guaranteed, Thor would waddle in the aftermath, and no magic could prevent Thor from remembering why. So, Loki banished the thought from his mind.

"And another thing, I wouldn't have to worry about getting it inside you, you're just one giant asshole," laughed Loki.

Thor took his hand from Loki's throat and had it join the other on Loki's cock. Thor massaged him with a double fisted stroke. Loki doubled over as far as Thor's arms would let him, hiccupped between squeals in rhythm with Thor's hips, and came. Thor continued to milk him.

"What, what was it," Loki gasped, "Tell me what it was, what you have."

Thor remained silent, holding and stroking Loki's cum back onto his cock. Loki stilled. His heavy cock twitched in Thor's hand and went still, as if Loki's heart itself stopped beating. Thor ran his thumb along the slit.

"B-brother? Brother!" Loki asked, then called out.

Loki's cock painted the pad of Thor's thumb in another blast of cum.

"That's good, right?" Thor asked.

He coaxed Loki's cock. Loki's thighs trembled, and he shouted as he came once again.

"Yes, yes, oh, Thor, it's good, so good, I love it," Loki said.

"You're not even looking at me," Thor said.

Loki screwed his eyes shut and faced away from Thor's voice. 

"I know why you're not looking at me," Thor said.

"No, brother, please, I, ungh!"

Loki’s nose wrinkled as his jaw went slack. His mouth formed a pleasing pink O shape as he spilled again.

"Not brother. Not if you can't even look at me. Say it. Just once. Say it or look at me." Thor said.

Loki would not look. Thor held the twitching cock still, stopped his own rutting hips. Loki shuddered, unwilling for this to end. He relented.

"Daddy," Loki whispered.

He cried out the moment Thor resumed.

"There, norns, I said it, now tell me..." Loki said.

Thor mimicked Odin. Loki squirmed with his eyes shut while Thor spoke.

"Tell you? Tell you what? That I possess something you do not? Hmm, what could I have that you don't have? Oh, fuck, ngh..."

The orgasm ripped through him, and he gripped Loki's legs to keep from manhandling his cock. Thor's nails dug into the porcelain like skin.

"Just tell me... Ah! Just tell me! What is it!" Loki said.

"A refractory period... Sometimes I envy you, my child who is both."

The way Thor called Loki child sounded indistinguishable from Odin to Loki's ears, despite the fact that Thor, spent, had not even attempted to sound like their father. Loki squirmed atop him, and Thor winced from overstimulation.

"No, no you can't! You can't be done, no, not yet," Loki said.

"Loki," Thor warned.

"Please no, please not yet... please daddy," Loki said.

Loki felt the full force of the clusterfuck of mental gymnastics. It hit him at once upon uttering the word. He knew what Thor meant, now. He panted, nervous, wondering what this said about himself. He shook his head until sweat sprinkled from the tips of his long black hair.

"Fuck... I'm a fucking mess, aren't I," Loki said.

Thor rolled his eyes, took Loki's hips in hand, and held himself inside his brother, even as his cock inched toward deflation.

"We both are, it's okay," Thor said.

He cradled Loki's huge cock with cum soaked hands and flicked his wrist rapidly to flutter his palm along the sensitive spot that, when stimulated before, had doubled Loki over himself. Loki cried out, knowing this would be the last one he gets.

"Say it again, say it while you come, it's just us," Thor crooned.

Loki came. A smaller jet than the last ones, this lighter orgasm wouldn't provide him with the utterly drained feeling he longed for. He cried and pleaded with his body not to give up so soon. He cried and pleaded aloud. He called out, once more, loudly, for daddy. A force tore into Loki – Loki's own force, in fact – to wrack his body with a blinding orgasm that Thor's hands coaxed him through. Once limp, Thor lifted his brother's skinny ass from his lap. Thor scooted himself to the side, and slid his breathless brother into the space beside him on the throne. Loki brought his fingers up to snap in the air as he caught his breath.

"Well, that happened," Loki said once he caught his breath.

Upon snapping, the mess of bodily fluids vanished, Odin's robe and Thor's pants arranged themselves properly, and the sweat evaporated from their brows, leaving behind cooled skin. Thor reached over to kiss his brother on the lips, then leaned back against the throne. The pair sat hip to hip and panted.

"Okay," Thor said once his breath returned, "where's dad?"

Loki heaved a sigh. He explained to Thor that he had, in fact, freed Odin, disguised as Loki, during the battle against the dark elves. Thor wept when he realized their father was gone, and in sacrifice for Thor, himself, no less.

"One of the last things he said was 'I was a fool.' I should have known that didn't sound like you," Thor said.

"I always thought you'd figure it out far sooner. Do I really sound so much like father to you?" Loki asked.

"Yes," Thor said, "and I am grateful for it. Moreso than you will ever know."

The pair spent hours reminiscing about their parents. They laughed and cried, worked through their fears and grief in each other's arms. Eventually, Loki noted with sorrow, it would be too late to lock away all of Thor's memories of the day. He desperately wanted to tell his brother everything. He wanted to clear his mind over the events surrounding the tesseract. He wanted the weight off his chest, terribly. But there was no time. He had only one more most important memory to implant in Thor's addled brain, while he still had time.

"By the way, Thor," Loki began, "you remember that big cache of gold you brought back from Vanaheim?"  
"Why Yes, I intend to use the lot of it as a honeymoon gift, a sort of Midgardian dowry!"  
"For Jane?"  
"For Jane, yes. Ah, hahaha, oh, Jane slapped you, thought I should warn you."  
"She what?"  
"Father. She slapped the taste from his tongue, because he looked like you. Oh norns, all he did was smile and say he liked her. How did I not know that was our father."  
Loki bit back a smile at himself, along with a flurry of unprocessable emotions that had no room for discussion at that moment.  
"Yes, well, she didn't know that, but at least I can say that in hindsight, I totally deserved that from her... After all I unwittingly ordered her entire dowry taken to Nidavellir."  
"What?! All that gold? All of it? Brother... Why?!"  
"To melt it down of course."  
"Melt it down?! Into what?!"  
"A giant golden statue."  
"What? Why!"  
"Because the dwarves of Nidavellir are simply the very best craftsmen in the universe. They make the best jewels, and armor, and weapons, and-"  
"What will this grand statue do?"  
"Nothing really, just look pretty. Asgard needs a big pretty statue. A symbol of our strength and solidary."  
"A statue of what?"  
Loki wound his pale, sinewy fingers through Thor's golden hair, until the fingernails slipped past the strands to graze the scalp.  
"Me," said Loki.  
Loki palmed Thor's forehead. Thor's eyes crossed, rolled toward the back of his head.  
"Oh, now I remember this," Thor said.  
"Quiet," Loki ordered, "Listen. All you need remember, brother, is that you have business with the dwarves on Nidavellir. And if you're still angry with me by then, just imagine what grand weaponry they can devise! With all that gold, you could easily buy such a devastating weapon that you could go god hunting with it."  
Loki released Thor's scalp as he fell unconscious on the throne. Thor regained consciousness with no memory of the attack. Odin huffed, standing over him. The implanted memories of a long, heartfelt talk with his father over mugs of strong drink were all Thor could remember.

"Finally. You are awake. You're in my seat, kid," Loki said, wearing Odin's form.

Thor remembered being deeply impressed by his father's wisdom, but could not remember his wizened words. Still, this was enough to satisfy his suspicion against the rumors that floated through Asgard. Thor no longer found suspicion in Odin's callous withdrawal. Thor could neither remember the most recent promises he'd made to Jane, nor could he remember the sum of gold he had brought from Vanaheim, because Loki had locked away these memories as well.

Loki could not stop the rumors that spread through the nine realms. Speculations skimmed across the very air like ghosts, whose moans dispersed suspicions that Odin must be dead, while Loki yet lived in Odin's form. Bets were taken as to whether Heimdall would evade capture, or be brought to Asgardian justice. To some conspiring Asgardians, the only understandable reason Odin had marked Heimdall as a traitor was that he must not, in fact, be Odin.

Loki could not stop the rumors. And he could not bring himself to care. The truth hardly mattered. Loki missed his father, missed his own reflection in the mirror. Nothing would change; the royal family was always fucked up, the politics were always fucked up, and either way, war did not come for Asgard at this moment. And if it would come, they'd be no better off under the rule of a grief-stricken frost giant than they would his absentee brother. Under Loki's direction, Asgard grew to believe that its strength lay in its people, and that the people's own power can conquer all. Yet Loki no longer believed this. His loneliness became a weight that drained him of his enthusiasm for life.

Loki, in Odin's form, took to bed earlier each day. He missed being called by his own name. He missed his father. He missed his brother. He even missed Heimdall to some small extent. He begged Skurge to inform him the moment his brother arrived. He curled up in a ball on the Allfather's bed and wept from the knowledge that he's utterly alone, that he could never see his parents again, that no one would help him when he ultimately fails, and that no one could even if they wished. He did not notice when the air in his father's bedchamber stirred.

"It hurts when someone you love and rely on falsifies their death, doesn't it?"

He gasped at the sound of his father's voice. He looked up to see his father, disguised in beggar's rags. Loki sniffed, wiped his eyes.

"I must see the healers," Loki said, "I'm afraid I've gone mad with grief. But whether you are truly here or not, I'd give you a hug. I mean, I need a hug, but as a rule ghosts don't-"

Odin embraced his son. His son sobbed, buried his face in the rags over Odin's chest. Odin smoothed his son's silvering hair.

"You look like the old me," Odin said, "if you don't age a day, the people will grow suspicious."

"Well, father, I would tell them again about the wonders of Idunna's apples, but it doesn't matter. Most of them believe I'm Loki, which is good, it is good that our people are sharp witted. But the fact is, they don't truly care. I don't matter at all. They don't need the throne," Loki said.

"It's true that Asgard has never needed a throne. They needed each other. You brought them together. They needed you. They'll never stop needing you," Odin said.

The two Odins spoke for a long hour. Loki felt his loneliness fade, his resolve grow, and his confidence repair under the arm of the Allfather that raised him. The pair spoke of Heimdall's visions, and Loki nodded gravely with understanding of Heimdall's role in the coming age. 

“I still don’t understand why you left me here,” Loki said.

“Ah, yes,” Odin said, “you don’t remember why I left you to believe me dead. I took that memory away from you.”

“Why?”

“Because we both agreed that it was best for no one to know. Not even you.”

“You’re in hiding,” Loki assumed.

“There is one other besides myself who knows the secret roads to Valhalla. One other who has the power to conquer all of Asgard. I locked her away in the land of the dead. She knows the way out. She could easily escape, but-”

“But you made her forget how to access the secret passage,” Loki said.

“Yes.”

“And the moment you die, the spell will break,” Loki said.

“And she will step forth from the land of the dead, and bring the universe under her heel.”

“That's why you thought it best to disappear,” Loki said.

“Do you disagree?” asked Odin.

Loki continued to ask questions, which Odin dismissed with a wave. Odin often gave the casual excuse that the pair had spoken of all this before, and that Loki would continue to forget the facts until the time arose when he would need them. As the sun set, Odin cast the spell of secrecy, and asked something peculiar of his son.

"I would like to see my son, if you don't mind. It's disconcerting, looking back at your younger self."

At first, Loki appeared to Odin as Thor. Odin laughed.

"As I said, it's disconcerting, looking back at your younger self. I'd like to see my son. My real son."

Loki dropped the illusion. He looked at his father with a wide-eyed, nervous hope, that he himself was the real son Odin wanted. Odin sighed at the toll the recent, stressful years had taken upon Loki. His baby-faced son looked so grown up, far too adult for Odin's heart to bear. Odin reached for his son, caressed the jet-black hair. Odin wrapped his aging fingers over the top of Loki's skull until his brittle old fingernails slipped between locks of shining black hair... to graze the scalp.

"I don't want you to leave, ever again," Loki admitted.

"I never want to leave you again, ever," Odin echoed. "But believe in yourself. You can handle all this without me. I know you can. I've watched you do so."

"Please?" Loki said.

He couldn't let himself say 'daddy.' Somehow, that word now belonged to Thor, along with all the connotations that went with it.

"You know why I have to do this," Odin said.

"Please don't make this worse," Loki said.

"Define worse," Odin said.

Loki shook his head.

"You and I both know we don't have time for me to tell you all the ways in which this can become worse," Loki said.

"And I cannot bring myself to do this without your trust," Odin said.

"Pardon?" Loki asked.

"I'm no cruel stranger. I'm your father. You are my son, heir to the throne of Asgard. Rightful heir, as far as I can see. You have long suffered in anguish, due to my mistakes. And I cannot let you live with the pain I sense in you when I can alleviate it. This spell, I would like to weave on your mind, is like your spell. Only the magic I use soothes the mind. It won’t end your anguish, but lessen it. Yet I can only do this if you, in your heart, still place your trust in me. I can only do this if you trust enough to give your mind over to my hand, willingly. If you distrust me, it is my own failing. I cannot expect your trust, or even your willingness to attempt to rebuild our trust, after all you've been put through at my hand."

Loki sighed. He slowly closed his eyes. He pressed his scalp into his father's hand. 

“After all this, you trust me? My son?”

He did not have to say aloud that he still trusted Odin; he rested his forehead against Odin's palm and breathed evenly. He waited in silence for Odin to work his magic. In silence, he prepared himself, to accept the fact that he would return to grief. He prepared to once again believe both his parents deceased. He prepared himself for the burden and loneliness that came with ruling the kingdom of Asgard in another man’s skin.

"This will not simply lock away your bad memories. Nor will this erase the entirety of your pain. I ache. I ache from the pain I sense in you. This spell will only ensure that so long as this ache hurts me, however tortuous the ache within my chest, your pain will torment you by that much less. I love you, my son. You are stronger and more capable... and more worthy than you know."

Beneath his closed eyelids, Loki's eyes crossed, rolled toward the back of his head.

Loki regained consciousness with no memory of Odin's visit. He found himself in the Allfather's bed, neatly tucked into place under the soft Asgardian quilt. He startled to see parts of himself in his natural form. He bolted upright, looked this way and that, frantically scanning for anyone present who might spot him in his own skin. He startled again at his almost unrecognizable reflection in a mirror. Loki paused. He clambered over the quilt towards own reflection. Had it been so long since he'd seen his own form?

An older man's face stood in place of the baby-faced visage that Loki grew accustomed to seeing in the mirror. His sunken eyes and puffy yet hollow cheeks cast skull-like shadows across his face. The once porcelain smooth skin was as pale as ever, only textured now like a common Midgardian’s skin. Wrinkles creased themselves into the crooks of his eyes and marred the plane of his forehead. Loki swallowed, patted his face to ensure this was no dream. 

A raven visited his windowsill with a caw. Loki took Odin's form and turned to hear the raven's news. The golden statue had been installed, and awaited Odin’s extravagant ribbon-cutting ceremony to be properly presented. Weight lifted from Loki’s shoulders. He felt as though he could smile. He felt eager to step into the sunshine and greet another day in Asgard. The raven whispered the latest rumors to float through Asgard on his wings.

Loki could not stop the rumors that spread through the nine realms. But the obscene unveiling of a giant golden statue of Loki of Asgard, arms spread to embrace all Asgardians and bring them together as one, ensured that the truth had never mattered.


End file.
